


The Medic

by WhiskeysWorks



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch au, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Human!zenyatta, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, PIV, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, not really enemies but they started out rough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:22:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22743208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiskeysWorks/pseuds/WhiskeysWorks
Summary: His hands were gentle as he wiped the blood from Hanzo’s face with a warm, wet towel, glancing at him every now and then as he worked. Hanzo stayed silent, only wincing a bit when the monk started to take the glass out of him.“You are so quiet this time, is everything alright?” Zenyatta broke the silence, Hanzo staring at the wall resolutely.“Yes.”“Are you in pain?”“I’m fine.”“Alright. But you need to let me know if you are, okay? That is why I am here; to help take it away.”Hanzo nodded, Zenyatta watching him with raised brows. Expecting a better explanation.
Relationships: Hanzo Shimada/Tekhartha Zenyatta
Kudos: 13





	1. The Medic

**Author's Note:**

> I take massive liberties with what Zenyatta can do with his discord/harmony energies, and if you did not already know I love these two with all my heart. My Zenyatta is intersex and genderfluid. That's all okay please enjoy! :)

There was blood all over his hands and face, splattered over his clothes and smeared in crimson lines of gore. The more concerning part about it all was that most of it was his. Shallow cuts that refused to stop bleeding, a few bullet holes in his armour, one or two deep gashes along his arm. Nothing too severe, and yet his vision was swimming, dark around the edges.

“Hanzo? You alright?”

Hanzo raised his head at the question, blinking hard.

“Yes.”

Jesse frowned, eyes narrowing as he gave the archer a critical once over.

“You sure? Your eyes are havin’ trouble focusing.”

“Just tired.”

“I’ve heard that one before. Somethin’s wrong,” Jesse nodded, reaching out to grip Hanzo’s shoulder lightly. “I’ll get’cha to the med bay as soon as we get back, okay? We’re almost there.”

Hanzo simply bobbed his head, then let it lean back against the seat, eyes drifting shut. He was tired, and hurting more than he would ever let on. Jesse knew that, but he would never push it. That was what Hanzo liked about him the most; he was good at reading the situation, good at dealing with people.

“Your brother would never forgive me if I let anythin’ happen to you,” the cowboy had once said, and he had kept a good eye on Hanzo since, making sure he was not too reckless or tried to go off on his own. Hanzo appreciated it. 

The airship went through some turbulence, jostling everything, the noise louder to Hanzo’s ears than it should have been. He just wanted to be back in his own quiet room and sleep for a solid twenty hours. After a rough mission was the only time Hanzo could get decent sleep, when his body and mind were too exhausted to keep him up any longer and finally succumbed to the wear and tear of being shot at and running for his life. Hanzo, for his part, was more than happy to do so if it meant he could sleep for anything longer than five hours. Not a great way for him to think about it, he knew, but he was hardly known for his self-care routines.

“Han? Come on, buddy. Let’s get you looked at.”

Hanzo stirred from his doze, Jesse giving him the look.

“What, never seen a man on two hours of sleep over three days with too much blood loss and probably a concussion? I know I look terrible,” Hanzo huffed, Jesse pulling him to his feet and patting his shoulder.

“Nah, you don’t look terrible. You look like absolute shit. I wasn’t sure I would be able to wake you up.”

“I would have been okay with that.”

“I know, I know.”

“Do I really look that bad...?”

“You got blood everywhere and the circles under your eyes make you look like you’ve been punched. Multiple times,” Jesse nodded, Hanzo laughing dryly.

“Nice. You don’t look much better, for the record.”

“I ain’t ever said I did. But lucky for me, I do not have a concussion or blood loss, so I’ve got a leg up on you there.”

“I can’t argue with the facts. Also, the hallway is spinning,” Hanzo stated bluntly, feeling himself list to the side. Jesse grabbed him again, kept him from stumbling and planting his face into the wall.

“Woah there.”

“God, everything hurts...”

“They’ll give you a shot and then you won’t feel anythin’ for the next twelve hours, don’t worry.”

“I cannot fucking wait. I need drugs.”

“I forgot you don’t have a filter like this. You sound like your brother,” Jesse chuckled, Hanzo waving his hand and trying his best to not curl up on the ground and scream. His head felt like he was being stabbed in some grungy back alley—which he had the misfortune of knowing exactly what it felt like.

“Yeah, well, we are related,” Hanzo reminded matter-of-factly, Jesse raising his brows and nodding.

“Mhm. Thus the whole ‘brother’ idea.”

“I think I’m going to throw up...”

“What.”

“Jesse McCree, who else should I expect in here after a mission?”

Hanzo glanced at Dr. Ziegler, the lights in the med bay too bright, making his headache flare. She shook her head fondly, though, she huffed in a put-out manner.

“Other than Hanzo Shimada, of course. It is always you and the Shimadas. Come along.”

They followed after the doctor, Hanzo swallowing back his nausea, doing his best to focus on just putting one foot in front of the other.

“In here, Hanzo. Someone will be with you shortly. You can clean up while you wait,” Ziegler instructed, pointing into another generic examination room. Hanzo went inside, the door shutting with a quiet click as he went to the sink. Washed his hands and face diligently, though there was blood stuck under his nails. His hands shook. Head throbbing with the pounding of his heartbeat. Everything too loud, from the sound of the water running to the electric buzzing of the lights. Hanzo sat on the examination table, paper crinkling beneath him, making him wince. 

It was not too long before the door opened again, a young, bald individual walking through wearing the Overwatch on-base medic uniform. A monk too, from the markings on their hands and forehead. Male, perhaps? Hanzo could not tell.

“Greetings! I am Zenyatta, I will be taking care of you today. You are agent H. Shimada, yes?” he asked in a chipper tone, Hanzo narrowing his eyes as he tried to figure it out.

“Yes.”

“I have heard lots about you. Here, let me have a look.”

Hanzo recoiled slightly from his hands as they came up to tilt his chin back and forth, uncaring of the reaction. Zenyatta hummed, then held up one finger and moved it from side to side slowly. Hanzo followed it with his eyes, knowing the drill. The faster he could bullshit his way through the check up, the faster he could go to bed. Zenyatta then set out a biotic field, gave him an injection, and inspected his wounds, making a quiet sound of disapproval when he saw the deeper cuts. He was very expressive as he worked, face changing clearly with his thoughts and focus, humming softly to himself as he stitched Hanzo up. It was ten minutes in before Hanzo realized his hands were glowing.

“Holy shit, your hands are glowing,” he blurted, the last remaining bit of his reserve gone. It would be embarrassing when he had the wherewithal to realize it, but that time certainly was not now. Zenyatta giggled, the sound bell-like and pretty.

“Yes, they are.”

“How?”

“Energy. It is harmony I can summon to help heal you,” Zenyatta explained with a little smile, tone taking on a playful lilt, as if he was addressing a child.

“Woah. That’s cool. I can summon spirit dragons from my arm.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. They rip things apart.”

“How lovely.”

“Are you a boy or a girl?”

Zenyatta laughed airily again, finishing up on Hanzo’s arm and wrapping it with a clean bandage.

“I am me. Whichever one you want to associate me with is fine.”

“Okay. Is ‘he’ okay?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Awesome. I should probably stop talking now, future me is going to hate my guts. I’ll just blame it on the drugs,” Hanzo shrugged, Zenyatta putting a cream over his cuts.

“It is fine. You are hardly the worst patient I have had to deal with when high. I actually think you are cute.”

“Wow, really?”

“Mhm! Very.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, thank you.”

“You are welcome. Now, you should be all good! I need you to go back to your room and get some good sleep for me, okay cutie pie?” Hanzo giggled at the name, Zenyatta tapping his nose lightly and helping him stand.

“Okay, I’ll do it for you.”

“Wonderful! I will let your commander know you have sick leave for the next two days to let your body heal.”

“Oh, thank you, you’re the kindest person ever,” Hanzo told him earnestly, Zenyatta waving as he left with a smile.

“Aww, thank you, sweetie. Bye!”

He went back to his room without running into anyone who cared to say anything to him, showering quickly and hopping into bed. The initial high from the biotics and pain medicine had already started to wear off, leaving Hanzo exhausted and numb. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

-

Three weeks later had Hanzo back in the med bay, staring at his feet as he sat on the examination table again. This time, Genji had to drag him in, staying with him to make sure he did not pass out or throw up again. Another head injury, only this time, it was worse. As it turned out, being thrown into a car by a Talon heavy was not fun at all. Hanzo still had glass in his arms and blood dripping down the side of his face. Genji was not much better off, unable to use his prosthetic hand and the wires on his spine exposed, making him walk in a stilted manner. 

Needless to say, it had not been a good mission. Genji refused to leave him, though. Oddly enough, the main thing worrying Hanzo at the moment was who the medic would be. He was praying it would not be Zenyatta again. God, he had been so obnoxious to the poor kid. Hanzo chewed on his lip, drumming his fingers on the table lightly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

Genji motioned with his good hand to Hanzo’s, raising his brows.

“You anxious?”

“Just a bit.”

“Why?”

Hanzo took a breath, then stopped, wondering if he should really be giving his brother more material to tease him with. He would find out somehow anyways.

“Well. There was this medic that took care of me last time and I was high and...I made a fool of myself. I just hope it isn’t him again.”

“Oh yeah, Zenyatta?” Genji laughed. Ah, so he already knew. Of course.

“Yup, that’s him.”

“I got him last time too, he kept asking me about you. He said you were adorable~”

“I...Think he was just being nice. I was. God, I was horrible. I lay awake thinking about it every night, it was so embarrassing,” Hanzo groaned, Genji snickering.

“You’re hilarious when you’re high.”

“I’m an idiot when I’m high.”

“Aren’t we all?”

There was a light knock on the door, both Shimada’s looking towards it as the medic stepped in. And it was Zenyatta, because of course it was. Hanzo flushed and looked back down at the floor as Genji laughed, Zenyatta tilting his head curiously.

“Perfect. Alright, now that I know he’s in good hands, I’ll let you help him,” Genji sing-songed, waving at Hanzo as he left. “Bye, Anija~!”

Hanzo glared, then stiffened a bit as Zenyatta began to inspect him.

“Did something happen before I came in?” he asked, Hanzo shaking his head.

“No, we just. He likes to make fun,” Hanzo muttered, Zenyatta smiling.

“That is what little brothers are good at. But do not let him tease you too much!”

His hands were gentle as he wiped the blood from Hanzo’s face with a warm, wet towel, glancing at him every now and then as he worked. Hanzo stayed silent, only wincing a bit when the monk started to take the glass out of him.

“You are so quiet this time, is everything alright?” Zenyatta broke the silence, Hanzo staring at the wall resolutely.

“Yes.”

“Are you in pain?”

“I’m fine.”

“Alright. But you need to let me know if you are, okay? That is why I am here; to help take it away.”

Hanzo nodded, Zenyatta watching him with raised brows. Expecting a better explanation.

“I want to apologize for before,” he blurted after a moment, Zenyatta’s smile growing.

“About what?”

“Just. Everything. I’m sorry.”

“No, no. You are fine. After all, we blamed it on the drugs, right?” he giggled, Hanzo’s blush darkening. Zenyatta then took Hanzo’s head gently and turned it, making him hiss in pain. He frowned, then pressed his fingers against the archer’s temple. Hanzo resisted the urge to throw up at the motion, pain shooting all the way down his body.

“Does this hurt?” Zenyatta asked softly, Hanzo swallowing thickly.

“No, it’s fine. Are we almost done?”

“I think you should stay here for the night...”

“I’m alright, can I just...Can I go?”

“Let me get you some biotics first. And when was the last time you had a brain scan?”

Hanzo squinted a bit, vision spinning.

“I don’t need one.”

“Well, if you keep hitting your head like this, it can cause some serious and irreversible damage. I need you to take care of yourself, okay?” Zenyatta told him gently, squeezing his forearm and gazing up at him imploringly. He then frowned and held up his hand.

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

Hanzo stared at his hand, making the best approximation he could. He had gotten good at faking it.

“Four.”

Zenyatta narrowed his eyes suspiciously, then lowered his hand.

“Alright...Drink this serum and then you may go back to your room.”

The archer downed the blue liquid and stood, blinked against the black that filled his vision, then left with a slight nod in Zenyatta’s general direction.

“Thanks.”

“Mm...”

Hanzo made it back to his room, barely made it through a shower, then collapsed on his bed, curling up into a ball around a pillow hugged to his chest.

The throbbing of his head woke him up not three hours later, Hanzo blinking with a groan. He reached out blindly towards his bedside table, feeling for a biotic field. There was none. With a curse, he rolled over, frowning at the wet feeling beneath his nose. Hanzo wiped it, staring at the red that covered his fingers.

“Fuck...”

He sat up slowly, breathing heavily as the pain hit full force. Worse than usual, making tears spring up to the corners of his eyes. He stood shakily, leaning heavily against the wall. Maybe he should have been honest during the check up. Hanzo stumbled out of his room, wincing against the light in the hallway, shuffling in the direction of the med bay. Invisible hands clutched at him, tried to drag him down. Shadows moved at the edge of his vision, faces in the darkness, voices whispering past the ringing in his ears. Hanzo ignored them, pushing past the med bay doors and slumping against the wall to catch his breath. 

Blood dripped onto the floor from his chin, Hanzo blinking slow. Someone came up to him, gentle hands holding his face, words muddled and unrecognizable. But the medic looking up at him was.

“Zen...?”

Hanzo let himself be pulled into another room, Zenyatta’s arm wrapping around his waist and holding him up. He was set on a table, a clean rag pressed under his nose and tilting his head back.

“I knew there was something wrong before you left, I should have made you stay...” Zenyatta was murmuring. Hanzo winced as biotics were injected into his neck, though, the numbing sensation that came with it was more than welcome.

“Sorry I lied...”

“Well, this is what happens when you do. I hope you remember it.”

Hanzo closed his eyes, feeling himself tilt and list forward. Zenyatta caught him, then laid him down on the table.

“I can only do so much for you. Some biotics will help and you need to place a field around you once every six hours. Drink plenty of fluid and get lots of rest. This could have been avoided if you had just told me what was wrong! Why did you not?” Zenyatta huffed in frustration, Hanzo merely grunting in reply.

“You cannot do everything alone, you know. And you do not have to. Especially when dealing with injuries, I am here to help!”

“I just wanted to sleep...” Hanzo mumbled, Zenyatta sighing heavily.

“You just wanted to seem strong. I know you are, Hanzo. You do not have to convince me. But I need you to let yourself be vulnerable sometimes, so that you can stay strong. Please do not put yourself in more harm for the sake of being this untouchable warrior.”

Hanzo glanced at the medic, finding him gazing back imploringly, expression open and honest in a way that made him feel uncomfortable. Like Zenyatta was looking straight through his protective walls, forcing him into a corner.

“You know nothing about me. Do not presume to think you do, tell me what I am doing, or how I feel. You are wrong about it, wrong about me,” Hanzo hissed, Zenyatta narrowing his eyes and leaning back. Much colder now, silence heavy between them.

“So, are we done here?”

“You tell me,” Zenyatta shrugged, arms crossing over his chest. Hanzo sighed in exasperation at the tone, standing slower than he would have liked. He left without a backwards glance, knowing he would regret it later. Again.


	2. The God AI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw for self-harm mentions here, Hanzo is not very nice to himself. Let me know if there are additional tags or warnings needed!

Two months passed, and Hanzo had not seen Zenyatta in the med bay. Off on missions, busy with other patients, on leave. Always an excuse when Hanzo happened to stop by or need some work done to patch his body up. He did not blame the medic. Regret was not something Hanzo felt often when it came to people. His actions even less so, but morality had never really been something he put emphasis on. Not something he had been taught to value in the way others did. But something about the way he had treated Zenyatta rubbed him the wrong way. 

Killing no less than twenty people in a single mission lasting an hour did not keep him up at night the way his conversation with Zenyatta had. When had words affected him so? And his own words, at that. The problem was, Hanzo knew he was in the wrong. Zenyatta had harmlessly pointed out a flaw, and he had lashed out to try to protect himself, to try deflecting. Now, he had no way of remedying his actions if the medic was avoiding him. 

Hanzo hissed softly as the arrowhead sliced through his finger, pulling him from his mindless train of thought. Distracted, leaving bleeding cuts all over his hands. Even something as benign as making more arrows was disrupted by this whole thing. It was ridiculous, and he was tired of letting his focus be stolen by it. Hanzo glared at the shaft of the arrow as he twisted it, arrowhead slipping on neatly and clicking softly as it locked into place. He held it up, one eye closing to check that it was immaculately straight. Then, it went back to his hand, Hanzo tapping it against his palm, lips pressing together. 

Perhaps if he simply asked for Zenyatta down in the med bay...

“Your hands are—"

Hanzo startled at the touch to his shoulder, arrowhead cutting into his palm as he cursed.

“Kuso!”

“I am sorry, sorry! I did not mean to sneak up on you, I just noticed your hands bleeding and—Your palm!” Zenyatta exclaimed, kneeling in front of him and taking his hands. Hanzo blinked at him when he started pulling bandages from a pouch on his hip, along with a small bottle of antiseptic. Still stared as his hands were tended to, Zenyatta wrapping his fingers and palm delicately. He then inspected everything one last time, frowning and running a finger over the inner part of Hanzo’s left wrist. The still healing cuts there alongside the raised, meticulously lined scars, pale against the red and bruising ones.

“What happened here?” Zenyatta asked softly, reaching for more of the spray before Hanzo took his arm back and grabbed his quiver.

“The bowstring does that sometimes if I don’t wear a guard,” he muttered abruptly. Zenyatta tilted his head, frown lifting a bit.

“Oh. Perhaps you should make sure you do, then. Would you like me to wrap it too?”

“No, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay...”

Zenyatta gave him a look that told him he did not quite believe the lie, then sighed and set his hands in his lap, not pursuing it further.

“I came to find you. Genji said you were probably in the practice range. I did not want to let our last interaction to sit for any longer than it already has, and I needed to apologize for my hostility. I should have let it go, and not assumed anything in the first place, it was unprofessional of me,” Zenyatta explained, Hanzo raising a brow.

“You...Simply responded as expected for such a situation. I provoked you, and I shouldn’t have either. You were just helping me, getting defensive was not justified, especially when what you said was true.”

“I thought you said I was wrong, though?”

“And I’m telling you now that I was being a jackass and you were right. So, I’m sorry for what I said.”

“Ah. Well, that is alright, I forgive you...Shall we, um, blame it on the drugs?” Zenyatta offered with a little smile, Hanzo giving the curve of one in response.

“Sure.”

“We are on a mission together in the next two days, you know,” Zenyatta started after a short pause, following after Hanzo as he began to walk out of the training rooms. The archer raised a brow.

“I see. So that’s why you came to see me.”

“I did not want the ride there to be awkward.”

“Fair enough. What exactly are we going into that needs a Blackwatch operative and an Overwatch medic?”

“I am not sure...It is an odd mix, I agree, so it must be a tricky situation,” Zenyatta hummed thoughtfully, shrugging after a moment. “I suppose we will simply have to find out in two days.”

“Mm. Well, thanks for this,” Hanzo told him, holding up his wrapped hands. “I’ll see you then.”

“Alright! See you then!”

Zenyatta waved and took a turn back towards the medical bay as Hanzo continued down the hall to go back to his quarters. He rubbed his forearm absently, tugging at his sleeve to cover his wrist better.

-

The dropship rattled as it hit turbulence, Hanzo barely moving in his seat where he was leaning on his knees. The small group of Blackwatch agents were to provide protection should things become too messy for Overwatch to be seen involved in, the area they were being dropped into somewhat of a hot spot. It was dangerous and relations with the government in the area were precarious at best, but the city needed help containing a small—albeit volatile—breakout of suspected God AI interference. 

Zenyatta sat with the much larger group of Overwatch agents being deployed, though, he did not talk to them. Stayed quiet and stared at the ground, seeming out of place. Hanzo knew the feeling. Not fitting in on the team, even if they were all just as much of an oddity as the next person, there was still something off. Something people shunned. 

The archer watched him for a moment, then stretched out his foot and barely tapped it against Zenyatta’s. The monk looked up, Hanzo glancing at the Blackwatch agents sitting one seat away from him, all having a conversation together. Gave a little grin when Zenyatta seemed concerned for a few seconds before understanding dawned in his eyes, brows unfurrowing. Not alone. He smiled a bit in return, Hanzo leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes with a sigh. 

They landed another few hours later, the sky dark and city cloudy with steam rising from the vents and grates they walked over. Hanzo kept an eye out for anything suspicious, their escort another Overwatch agent that had been stationed there after the initial spotting of unusual omnic activity.

“They’ve been going back and forth to a warehouse in the suburbs, close to a little forest area just outside of the town. I’m not sure what’s in there, but I was thinking we send the Blackwatch agents in to scout it out first,” she told them as they were led through back alleys towards their destination.

“Has anyone been hurt by these omnics yet?” Zenyatta asked, the woman shaking her head.

“Not yet. And we’ll stop them before they can. The God AI has already caused enough trouble around here lately.”

“So there have been previous situations like this?” another agent piped in.

“Smaller ones, yes. Easily contained and terminated with just me and a few others.”

“Why is Blackwatch here at this one, do you know?” Hanzo finally inquired, eyes narrowed and sharp. The woman glanced at him, giving a single shoulder shrug.

“You’ll have to ask the commander that question, not me. I thought it was only going to be Overwatch agents.”

They continued walking until the buildings became more sparse, the edge of a forest to be seen in the distance past an old neighbourhood.

“Just over that ridge there, do you see the warehouse by the river? It’s hard to sneak up on with only the bridge there as the way in and out, but there’s not much activity from four to six in the morning, from what we have observed. Entry points are two doors in the back, the front, and a cracked window on the east side second floor,” the woman explained as she pointed out the areas, hands going to her hips when everyone nodded in affirmation.

“So, any one of you Blackwatch agents specialize in stealth ops?”

There was a pause before the three other Blackwatch agents turned to look at Hanzo, everyone else doing the same after catching on.

“Alright, what do you need me to do?” Hanzo sighed, Zenyatta smiling and hiding it behind his hand as the woman cleared her throat.

“Get up to that window and do a little recon without getting spotted, preferably. Give us an idea of what all we’ll be going up against.”

Hanzo nodded, then narrowed his eyes at her, looking at the tactical visor she had over one eye. She frowned, her demeanor shifting to become defensive.

“You got a problem all of a sudden? What are you waiting for?”

“That visor. May I borrow it?”

“Why...?”

“I highly doubt they do not have security measures set about the place, I need to look at it with the visor.”

“It shows heat and bio signatures, how would you—"

“Can I just see them? We’re wasting time,” Hanzo interrupted softly, holding out his hand while staring her down. She huffed, taking it off and setting it in his palm with a glare. Hanzo held it up and adjusted a few settings, changing the heat signatures to radiowaves. The warehouse lit up, small points by the doors and at each corner of the building especially bright. After a few seconds of staring to memorize the spots, he handed the visor back.

“Thank you,” Hanzo chimed, slipping out from behind their cover and making his way to the bridge silently, keeping to the shadows. He climbed up the support beam, balancing on the bars connecting each pillar on the side of the road far above it. Hanzo ran across it, crouched low and pausing before sliding down the other beam and behind some old crates. He avoided the spots he had seen with the visor, picking his way to the east window and climbing up the wall to reach it. Crouched along the windowsill, squinting a bit to see inside past the darkness. 

There were flashes of light at odd increments, no order to it, shining off the metal of the omnics standing around a central screen. It had an eye on it, static making the image shiver. Hanzo counted the omnics, took note of the weapons they had stocked in crates along the wall.

“Planning an attack, are we?” he murmured to himself, glancing up at the rafters. Reached out to grab one and pulled himself up to walk along it. He was at the middle of the warehouse right above the screen when his comms went off.

“Shimada? The hell are you doing?! Where did you go?”

“Inside the warehouse.”

“You need to get out of there, there’s a vehicle approaching and you’ll have no way out if the omnics go outside!”

“They seem pretty wrapped up in here with their glowing screen.”

“Their what?”

“God AI telling them what to do. I can’t hear it, only omnics can tap into that frequency. But they have a bunch of weapons stored here, and there’s a group of at least thirty or forty of them.”

There was a soft curse, then a heavy sigh.

“Alright. Just come on out of there, the truck is parking right out front. Don’t use the same window, it’s in sight of them.”

“Copy that.”

Hanzo took one last look at the omnics standing absolutely still around the screen, shaking his head. He crawled through the rafters to a different window, trying to open it carefully. It would not budge.

“It seems we have a guest.”

Hanzo froze at the voice—voices?—speaking through his comm, not human in the slightest.

“Your communications frequency is rather easy to trace and tap into. You humans prefer convenience over your own safety, and it is fascinating to watch how far you will go to rob us of ours, considering this.”

“Who is this,” Hanzo demanded, glancing down only to find all the omnics with their optical sensors turned straight up at him. “Oh shit, okay never mind I see.”

“Do you, now?”

One of the omnics crouched, then sprang up, gaining inhuman height from the jump and grabbing on to one of the rafters. Its fingers made dents in the metal.

“Fuck...”

“I think you misunderstand the nature of our gathering here, agent H. Shimada. It is not an attack we are planning. It is a rectification,” the voices echoed, more omnics jumping up and closing in.

“So infiltrating the minds of good omnics and forcing them to do your bidding by massacring humans is what you call rectification?”

“And yet your justifications for doing the same to us are still holding strong, are they not, Overwatch?”

“I don’t work for Overwatch,” Hanzo hissed, hearing a contemplative little hum. The omnics around him had not moved closer, simply kept him from escaping. They were so still.

“Not Overwatch? Your communications link is of their frequency.”

“I work with them, not for them.”

“With, for, same difference. You are still on their side.”

“I know there are flaws, though. I see why you would be angry with Overwatch and their practices, their preaching.”

“Ah. An ‘understanding’ human. How predictable of you to turn on your organization the moment it gets you into trouble. We are not angry with them, or even humans. We simply wish to cleanse the world. Humans only cause disasters, history has proven this time and time again. They work solely in their self interest, do they not, agent H. Shimada?”

“We do. I do. I will not pretend to deny it.”

“Then we truly have come to an understanding! If only all humans were as agreeable as you, oh what is your name...Ah. Hanzo. You don’t mind if we call you that, no? Good. They encrypt your information well, along with the secrets you have. I do not care to look at them. We shall start with you, then, Hanzo. It’s nothing personal, mind you, humans take everything so personally.”

“Then I suppose you know this is nothing personal either,” Hanzo shrugged, pulling out his wakizashi and cutting through three omnics in a matter of seconds as they started to advance.

“So quick to violence. Predictable as well. Perhaps we will use your methods too.”

Hanzo grimaced as gunshots began to ring through the building, and he jumped for the window, holding the wakizashi out to break it. It shattered, glass raining down around him as he fell, hitting the ground in a roll. He hopped up and ran, hearing the gunfire following him. Whizzing past his ear, a bullet clipping his shoulder, hitting his leg.

“Shit!”

Hanzo stumbled, flinging himself behind a crate and hissing as he grabbed his thigh. He hated fighting against omnics. Their shots did not hesitate or waver the way humans did, they did not falter or miss. Once a target was locked, they would not stop until it was dead.

“Hanzo!”

That was a familiar voice, and it was not over the comms. Hanzo looked up, scrambling back as Zenyatta jumped from the support beam of the bridge gracefully and land with a wave of purple that knocked back the advancing omnics.

“What in the fuck—"

“Come on, we have to run! There are more on the way!”

“How did you—"

“Come on! Questions later!” Zenyatta urged, pulling Hanzo to his feet and dragging him along until he managed to get his feet back under him with only a slight limp. Headlights flashed at them from the other side of the bridge, the warehouse behind them, both sets advancing too fast. Trapped. Hanzo glanced at the river, then turned to Zenyatta as they ran.

“Do you know how to jump into water from this height?” he yelled, Zenyatta looking at the river.

“Are you crazy?! That is too high!”

“Okay, cross your legs at the ankle and put your arms over your chest in an x! Keep your knees straight but not locked! You got it?”

“No, I do not got it, we are not jumping—AAH!”

Hanzo yanked Zenyatta to the side and shoved him over the edge of the bridge as a truck rammed past where he had just been standing, leaping off as well. Heard a splash below him as he fell, body flailing for just a moment before he straightened out and hit the water hard. It was cold and turbulent, pitch black. Hanzo resurfaced with a gasp, looking around for Zenyatta. Saw something just barely floating above the water a few meters from him. He swam to it, wrapping his arm just beneath Zenyatta’s neck to keep his head above the water. His eyes were closed, nose bleeding.

Hanzo went with the current, getting to shore as fast as he could and dragging Zenyatta up behind him. The monk was still as the omnics had been. Hanzo crawled over him and shook him, listening for a breath. There was none. He cursed, placing his hands on his chest to start CPR. Counted softly to himself only up to eleven before Zenyatta jerked and rolled over with a cough, water spilling from his lips. He hacked and gasped for air, Hanzo keeping a firm hand on the back of his neck until only ragged breaths were heard.

“Sit up straight, chest out. Deep breaths, in and out,” he instructed, Zenyatta doing as he was told. Hanzo gently leaned the monk’s head back and kept it there, pressing his glove to his nose after wringing it out as best as he could.

“Is there a ringing in your ears?”

Zenyatta grimaced, holding the glove himself after waving Hanzo’s hands away.

“Small bit, yes.”

“Does your head hurt? Feel heavy?”

“Hanzo, I know the symptoms of a concussion and I am fairly certain I have all of them.”

“Oh, wonderful.”

“Says the man who shoved me off a bridge!”

“Would you rather have been smashed to mush by a truck going at least ninety miles an hour? I didn’t think so!”

“I could have taken it!” Zenyatta exclaimed, Hanzo blinking and making a face.

“What? No, you would have died! How the hell could you take that?”

“It hit me, goes crunch around me from protection barrier energy thingy and I walk out fine, I did it before.”

“Okay, so I’ll say that’s the concussion talking...”

“Bah! You will not understand. Your brother likes to cut cars in half with his sword, why did you not do that, hm? Seems much more cool than jumping off bridges.”

“I don’t have a sword on me at the moment and he is far more dramatic. Can you walk?” Hanzo sighed, ignoring the monk’s babble once his eyes began to lose their focus, Zenyatta staring out at the river somewhat blankly.

“Yes. And you are so dramatic, what are you talking about? Both of you are the most dramatic people I know with your displays and timing and edgy ninja personas, the whole cryptic way of talking and ‘I work alone and am better at it than you’ are you kidding me? Drama kings.”

“I won’t take that personally, but I will remember it, I’ll have you know.”

Zenyatta waved his hand as they went up the bank and began to climb up the hill that led back up into the city. Hanzo paused when the monk slowed and winced after some time, hand going up to his head delicately.

“Do you have any biotics...?” he asked softly.

“I’m afraid not. Can you heal yourself with your energies?”

“It does not work like that. Using the energies to heal would also deplete them, it creates a useless loop of equal amounts of give and take.”

“Huh...Well, if we keep heading this way, we can make it to the rendezvous point in ten minutes; there will be med packs there. Do you think you can make it, or do you want me to carry you?”

Zenyatta’s head drooped, shoulders slumping as his body swayed a bit in place.

“I can walk...” he murmured, Hanzo watching with a frown as he continued up the hill slowly. Followed behind him until they made it to the top, the monk breathing heavily.

“Here, let me help you for once, okay? It’s not far and you aren’t heavy,” Hanzo offered, Zenyatta nodding a bit. The archer scooped him up, adjusting his hold as he began to walk, leg throbbing. He could ignore that.

“Thank you,” Zenyatta whispered, head leaning against his chest, eyes fluttering shut.

“It’s the least I could do after shoving you off a bridge.”

That got a small smile in return, Hanzo staying quiet the rest of the journey back to the rendezvous.

-

Hanzo rolled over again, eyes opening after some time of restlessness he tried and failed to quell. Sleeping on a base he knew was hard enough, but an unfamiliar one for a few days on a mission meant his insomnia would be incorrigible. With a defeated sigh, he sat up and stretched, not bothering to try and tame his hair. It had been cut recently, Hanzo choosing to go for an undercut, though, the top was still long. Too long, but he did not have the time to fix it. Instead, he pulled as much of it as he could back into a ponytail, sliding his legs from beneath the blanket and slumping. 

Hanzo finally stood, stretching again before throwing on a tank top with the Blackwatch logo stamped to the front. He shuffled out of his room, the hallway bordering on blinding compared to the pitch darkness he had been in. Made his way to the commons room with the kitchenette, hoping to make some tea or coffee—whichever they had, it did not matter, he just needed a boost to start the day. At four in the morning. Lovely. He bumped into the doorframe as he went inside, grimacing and cursing a bit too loud in the otherwise silent base.

“Ouch fuck dammit all—"

Zenyatta looked at him from where he was seated crosslegged on the counter, sipping at a steaming mug. Raised his brows as Hanzo stared at him from the doorway for a little too long.

“Are you alright?” the monk finally asked, Hanzo blinking and walking inside.

“Yup, I’m great, it’s fine, I’m fine.”

“Hmm.”

Zenyatta was smiling behind the lip of his cup, Hanzo could tell, but his eyes were tired, and it did not quite reach them. He went over to lean against the counter on his forearms, looking up at Zenyatta after glancing at the small pot of what was presumably tea on the stove area.

“You mind if I have some of that?” he asked, pointing to the pot.

“Of course,” Zenyatta nodded, offering his cup. Hanzo smiled a bit, shaking his head and going to the cabinet.

“I’ll pour my own glass, but thank you, I appreciate it. You look like you need that to yourself anyways.”

Zenyatta hummed softly in response, eyes drifting to the floor as the cup went back to his lips. An uncharacteristic motion, all of it was, though, Hanzo did not know if he had any right to ask what was wrong. He poured himself some tea, then hopped up on the counter next to the monk. Tapped him lightly with his shoulder, giving a worried glance.

“You okay? You seem out of it.”

“It is quite early...”

“Yes, but this feels different.”

Zenyatta sighed, glancing at Hanzo, trying for a smile.

“I am just a bit wrapped up in my head at the moment. I have...I have something like an annual PTSD that comes around this time of year and. Well, it is here and I simply have to work through it until it is over. Forgive me if I seem out of it, when we get back to base I will take time off so as not to slip during missions. I was lucky this one was not too bad,” he explained curtly, shrugging one shoulder. Trying to make light of it. Hanzo stared at him for a moment, watched as that little smile faded and the monk looked back down.

“I have not been able to sleep for a few days. It is hard to fall asleep, and then it is either nightmares or paralysis or both, which is not even worth sleeping for...So here I am, trying to keep myself awake, but when I am awake for too long I tend to hallucinate and hear things. It is a bit of a mess, honestly. I am sorry you had to see me like this.”

“No, you’re okay...How long have you had this?”

“Three years before this one.”

“How long does it last?”

“Between two weeks and the whole month, depending on how it is triggered. This one really is not that bad, actually.”

“That doesn’t mean it should be blown off, Zen. Is there anything I can do to help?” Hanzo asked softly, Zenyatta tipping his head back, resting it against the cabinets.

“I do not think so, but thank you. Having someone around keeps me in reality, at least.”

“Do you want to try to get some sleep? You can come to my room if you want someone with you, and I can wake you up if you are having a nightmare,” he offered. Zenyatta turned to him at that, the dark circles under his eyes more prominent at the angle. There was a long pause before the monk nodded, setting aside his cup.

“No harm in trying...”

Hanzo slid off the counter, Zenyatta following after him as he led him to his room, keeping a close eye on him as they went. He was swaying a bit, exhaustion clearly taking its toll on the monk’s body. The archer put a hand on Zenyatta’s lower back, gently ushering him inside when the darkness had him pausing.

“It’s okay, there’s nothing here but you and me,” Hanzo assured quietly, Zenyatta nodding.

“Alright...”

The door shut with a quiet hiss, Zenyatta jumping a bit at the noise. Hanzo pushed him towards the bed delicately, eyes adjusted to the dark now, seeing the way Zenyatta curled up on it. He crawled in behind him, pulling the blankets up and tucking them around the monk, then wrapped an arm around him.

“You’re safe,” he whispered. Felt Zenyatta take his arm and clutch at his hand, fingers running over it after a few minutes. Down his palm and over each fingertip, gracing along his inner wrist. Tracing the scars, thumb rubbing across them gently.

“These are not from any bowstring, are they...?” Zenyatta murmured at last, Hanzo sighing against his nape.

“A bad habit. One I cannot break, and one that I fall into more often than I care to admit.”

“I had my suspicions. I prayed they were wrong but...”

Hanzo did not answer, eyelids drooping as those fingers slipped up and down his forearm gently. Hearing Zenyatta’s soft breaths, feeling them swell in his chest, warm and alive against his own. It was comforting. Then, there was something over his hand, fitting into place on his wrist. A band of beads. Wooden, by the feel of them. The ones that Zenyatta always wore on his arms, part of a matching set.

“If you wear this over them, it may help you think about something else when you get the urge. Remember that I care about you and I want you to be safe. To not put yourself through more pain, you have already had more than anyone should ever have to endure.”

There was a throbbing in his chest he had not felt before. Something strange and hurting to his core. Hanzo did not know what to call it, how to describe it even in his own mind. But there was something else there amidst it all, too, something gentler and warmer. Like Zenyatta’s lithe form pressed against his, curled up and soft, still holding on to his arm. And that, too, was something new for him.

“Thank you, Zen...” Hanzo murmured, voice wavering just a bit.

“Mhmm. I really care about you a lot, Hanzo. Please do not ever forget that.”

Hanzo swallowed thickly, nodding where his head was pressed to the monk’s neck, nuzzling against it.

“I care about you a lot too.”

He felt a reassuring squeeze to his hand, Zenyatta wiggling a bit and sighing as his body relaxed, eyes closing. There was silence for a long time, Hanzo eventually stretching to look at Zenyatta, only to find him asleep. The archer gazed at him for a little while, far softer than he should have, making sure his sleep was peaceful. When he was sure Zenyatta would be okay, he closed his eyes as well, drifting off faster than he had in months.


	3. The Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, my Zenyatta is intersex and the terms used are clit and slit.

There were too many of the Talon soldiers surrounding them. There always was. Their supply always seemed endless no matter when and where they showed up. Hanzo glanced around a corner, eyeing the sniper positioned on a balcony, scanning the area. They were good, but they were no special ops sniper like he was. So one shot was all it took to have her jolting and falling to the ground with a crunch, none the wiser as to another player on the field. 

And it was almost a game, in a way. Strategic like chess, but overwhelming and far more high stakes. Winning was a must, not just a feel good opportunity. Hanzo played like the king. Move from one spot to another, command the board from behind, make the best decisions for himself. That was how he stayed alive, how he got to play another round. 

All that logic was shot when a rouge piece was thrown onto the board in the form of Zenyatta. 

Suddenly, it was like the monk was the king, and everything else protecting him was Hanzo. He became reckless; eyes on Zenyatta more than his enemies, shooting to keep the monk safe instead of himself, throwing himself into battles he did not need to take. No one had ever managed to make Hanzo do that before, to make him not work solely for himself. It was strange, and it often led him to the med bay by the end of it. 

Led him back to Zenyatta, who would fluster over him and mumble the whole time about how he would have been fine and that Hanzo needed to take better care of himself. And Hanzo would just shrug and say he was fine in the end too, right? That he knew what he was doing, that he only did what he knew Zenyatta would not have been able to take on his own. That would earn him a little glare, quickly melting into something more shy and red. 

Something soft. 

Hanzo was waiting his turn in the haphazard group of agents that had been injured after getting back from the latest mission, the med bay lights harsh and buzzing as always. He had only gotten a few scrapes and bruises, nothing major, but protocol required them to have it cleaned and patched up. Hanzo waited, watching Zenyatta bustle back and forth between agents and examination rooms, voice gentle and lilting for each of them. Jealousy was not something he ever thought he would feel over someone else, but here he was, identifying the sinister warmth in his veins as such. He forced himself to relax, to pretend he did not care. 

Because he should not. He so should not. Caring was dangerous in this job, caring would get him killed.

“Hanzo.”

That was all it took to have all that disappear from his mind, looking up at the monk who sighed softly and motioned for him to follow. Hanzo did, the examination room clean, Zenyatta going to a cabinet and pulling bandages and antiseptic from it.

“Busy day?” Hanzo asked, Zenyatta huffing.

“It would be less so if you all cared to watch out for yourselves. It is all just minor cuts and the occasional bullet wound.”

“It wasn’t bad. We’re lucky we all came back alive.”

“You are.”

Lithe fingers took his chin gently and tilted it to the side, antiseptic being dabbed onto the scrapes by his temple.

“Did you fall?”

“You make it sound like I was just being clumsy.”

“Maybe you were.”

“I’m not clumsy.”  
“I’ve seen you run into more doorframes than I can count, and the number of concussions you have seen me for is beyond that.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m clumsy,” Hanzo grumbled, Zenyatta giving him a look with a smile.

“No, I suppose it is simply recklessness then.”

“I...Cannot really deny that one.”

The monk’s smile grew, then faded as concern danced in his eyes. He leaned in, closing them as he pressed their foreheads together, Hanzo blinking but not pulling back.

“You worry me, Hanzo. Please be more careful, I do not like seeing you come in here hurt all the time.”

Hanzo was frozen in place. Unsure what to do or say, even more so as both of Zenyatta’s hands came up to cup his face, tilting it up. Eyes lidded and soft. Always so soft. A kiss was placed on his lips, chaste and gentle, the monk pulling back just enough to nuzzle him. Staying close, as if he had been waiting for a moment like this. As if he had been waiting for Hanzo. 

And Hanzo stretched into it, hands sliding up Zenyatta’s back, tugging him closer, making the space between them smaller and smaller until it did not exist and he was kissing him back. Firmer and explorative, getting a feel for the monk’s plush lips, his warm mouth. Tasting and taking until they were breathless. Enraptured. The moments spent feeling and learning too long, too short. 

Hanzo only stopped when he heard something dangerously close to a moan, Zenyatta’s grip tight on his shoulders, back arching into him, legs spread around his own. Not realizing what he was doing, how far he was going. Hands tangled beneath Zenyatta’s shirt, still trying to pull him closer, still wanting more. Lips pressed against his neck, trailing down over his quickened pulse, Hanzo finally sighing into the monk’s shoulder. 

Resting his head there, eyes drifting shut as he took in the warmth of his body, the sharp, pleasant scent of him, the way everything in his form begged for more, yet knew the same thing Hanzo did. Now was not the time nor place. There were still wounded agents outside, reports to be written, work to be done. But a few more moments would not hurt. 

Too long, too short. 

Hanzo pulled back with a quiet inhale, Zenyatta’s eyes slowly opening but not meeting his.

“We should not be doing this...” he whispered.

“No.”

“I think I like it, though, being reckless.”

Zenyatta smiled a bit then, bright oceanic eyes flicking up to Hanzo’s at last.

“Me too.”

“And I think I like you, too.”

“Oh, I definitely like you a lot,” Zenyatta giggled, Hanzo smiling as he was hugged against the monk’s chest, held like he was special. Maybe to Zenyatta, he truly was.

-

The roof was quiet, summertime heat making false waves shimmer in the dips of the road beneath him, shining off the cars and windows of the buildings around him. Uneventful, the most strenuous thing Hanzo had done thus far being sweating his ass off. Sometimes being a spec ops sniper was not all that enthralling. Sometimes he just waited and provided an extra pair of eyes for the protection of someone else. Not all of it was undercover missions and assassinations. 

Jack Morrison, Gabriel Reyes, Ana Amari, and a few other high profile officers Hanzo did not know in person were having a military based meeting, classified operations being discussed at length. Those were never good. It meant that they were going to try to stop another war from happening, but could potentially start one in the process. God AI anomalies were starting to become less anomaly and more of a commonplace, especially in the big cities. Corruption in omnics were at an all-time high since the first Omnic Crisis, and that made everyone uncomfortable. Too similar to what they had seen in the war. 

Hanzo had not been but a boy during the Crisis, but he had heard the stories, and the look in Captain Amari’s eye when he had asked her about it said it was not good. Oddly enough, Zenyatta had been brought in as a confidant, the monk having worked closely with omnics before. He knew how to treat injured omnics as well, tended to look into the cases with God AI corruption, knew more about it all than he let on. The military ops thought his religion would have a connection to it, the symbols of the Iris and the God AI sharing an unsettling similarity. 

Zenyatta had defended it rather vehemently when it was pointed out, saying they knew nothing of what the Shambali stood for if they were to be accused of corrupting the very omnics they tried to protect. The idea they all died trying to protect.

“What do you know of watching every single one of the people you knew, you loved, get hunted down and killed in cold blood? For trying to protect omnics and give them equality, to say that we are all one in the same. And to have what they stood for put under suspicion now is utterly appalling. If there were any of us left for you to speak with, you would be ashamed of yourselves for thinking such a way after hearing us. If you would just listen to more than guns and war and the money it makes you, maybe this world would indeed be a better place.”

Hanzo had to agree with the monk. There was part of him that thought the military operations running Overwatch and Blackwatch alike wanted another war. Another reason to step in and resume control, to go back to the almost deity level it had once been to everyone in the world. There was something off about it all. And Hanzo knew about how organizations controlled power, he had lived and breathed it for years. 

But he was not allowed in the meeting, he was not allowed to speak his mind as a simple agent beneath them, would end up being taken as a threat and eliminated. It is what he would do if he was in that position, after all. So the best he got was sitting and waiting, perhaps hearing what had happened from Zenyatta later. 

The late afternoon heat slowly faded with the light, evening falling over the city rather prettily. The sunset reflected in the windows, lights turning on below him, twinkling for miles on the highway. Eventually, his comm beeped, signaling that the meeting was over and he could go inside. Hanzo packed up his rifle, trekking down the roof access stairs and going back to the main building to give a report. They hurried him along and out, Hanzo falling into step behind his commander as Reyes appeared, talking with Amari and Morrison.

“I don’t understand why they wouldn’t just send someone in to at least check it out unless they know more than they’re letting on!”

“Gabriel, you know how these things go. Every time they say something that gets your gears going and every time it turns out they were right,” Morrison sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Because in the end I have to go in there and clean up the mess that I said they would make, Jack, that’s how this works! You only see the end result when I’m finished polishing it for you. I’m sick of sending my agents into dangerous areas and risking their lives every mission because your need to please these military yahoos that want a war they know they can’t have!” Reyes hissed, Amari narrowing her eyes.

“Gabriel, we are still here,” she muttered, Morrison’s face going stony.

“I don’t give a damn anymore, and clearly they don’t either. I’ve got good kids’ lives on the line, Jack, and you do too. We were once just like them, remember?”

“And we had to do the same thing. It was and still is our duty as soldiers.”

“Now really isn’t the time for this conversation, boys,” Amari reminded sharply, both commanders quieting as a group of higher ups passed with a nod.

“I have my issues with these arrangements as well, but those are to be discussed in a place where there are no hidden eyes and ears.”

“She’s right, Gabriel.”

“Fine. I’ll listen to Ana.”

“You are so hilarious.”

“I am, aren’t I? Shimada, things looked clear up there, I assume?”

Hanzo blinked, straightening a bit and glancing at Zenyatta, who seemed pensive, preoccupied.

“Yes, sir. Nothing notable but the heat to report.”

“Tell me about it. That room was stuffy enough to make the walk inside feel cold.”

“Aww, you are both so cute. Try Egypt,” Amari chimed in bemusement, Hanzo smiling a bit.

“Not all of us are quite as patient nor skilled as you, Captain. If you would, allow the rookies some complaints.”

“You are hardly a rookie, Shimada. And you still have yet to beat me in a shooting contest, so until then, I will not allow it.”

“Fair enough, ma’am.”

Amari chuckled and patted Hanzo’s shoulder, giving him a knowing look before they were escorted to their respective transportation to the hotel. Morrison had another meeting for Overwatch operations, Amari staying with him while Gabriel took the group of agents sent for protection with him. The hotel was extravagant and well armed, though, each one of them knew how to protect themselves more than well enough. 

Hanzo tapped Zenyatta’s arm lightly on the elevator ride up to their rooms, the monk giving him a tired smile after pulling himself from his thoughts. The look he gave promising he would talk about them later. For the moment, though, he took Hanzo’s pinky with his own, curling it and squeezing lightly. Gentle affirmation. 

The elevator dinged and everyone moved off of it, going to their respective rooms. Hanzo’s was further down the hall, Zenyatta letting go of his hand.

“I am going to shower, but I will come over when I am through,” he murmured, Hanzo nodding.

“Alright. See you in a bit.”

A quiet room to himself was welcoming, the shower even more so as Hanzo took his time washing the sweat and grime from the day from his body, sighing up into the warm spray. He got out and toweled his hair dry as best he could, putting on a clean pair of sweats and exhaling quietly as he looked at the tablet provided, giving instructions as to when and where they would be leaving the next day. A knock on the door brought Hanzo’s attention back to his surroundings, going to it and opening it for Zenyatta. He looked more refreshed, slipping inside and going to sit on the bed with a sigh.

“It was boring, for the most part,” he shrugged as soon as the door had shut again, Hanzo wandering over and sitting next to him.

“Was anything of real importance talked about, or was it all just nonsense?”

“Nonsense. They only listened to me for about five minutes before I was ignored and they tried to convince the commanders of firmer action. When they refused, it then became no action could be taken. I am starting to wonder who exactly is in charge here...”

“Certainly not anyone who has actually seen battle or won any wars, I can tell you that much. Whoever it is, they’ll be locked away somewhere safe enjoying the profits of good people losing their lives for it.”

“And here I was, thinking I was joining an organization that would help bring peace and change the world...Turns out it is only here to keep things on edge so that they can have justification for their involvement in every piece of the world’s troubles, to be seen as the noblemen leading it from chaos,” Zenyatta sighed, defeat in his tone, not something Hanzo had ever heard from him.

“The best we can do is think for ourselves in this. People like you, good people, making the right decisions in light of wrong ones are truly what saves everyone from the chaos they would bring upon it.”

“You say that as if you would not do the same.”

“I am not so selfless to see the world rise in the wake of my own breaking.”

“Then I think you also overestimate the good in me as well. I am only human too, not everything I do is saintly work.”

“No, but you are far better than a demon playing at being a hero,” Hanzo hummed, clasping his hands in his lap, eyes drifting to the side.

“Hanzo...”

“It is simply the truth. I am a killer, you are a healer. It is in the nature of our jobs, what we signed up for. Inherently, yours is morally better, and while morals have long since been the privilege of being a concern of mine, I still see faces of those I’ve gunned down in the shadows. They haunt me, and rightly so."

“If we want to have the conversation of morals, you are choosing the lesser of evils. Taking down Talon soldiers saves countless lives of innocent people.”

“But what is one assassin to another? One radical organization to another? Maybe they know what they are doing is wrong, maybe they think Talon will change the world and save it in the way they want it to, just like us with Overwatch.”

“You are not a terrorist, Hanzo.”

“Well, at least there’s that.”

Zenyatta shook his head, turning to face Hanzo more fully, tilting his chin up.

“The fact that you recognize all this for what it is already makes you better than most. You know what you stand for, what you fight for, and who you want to protect. Many are just followers. You are a natural leader. You question the world around you, keep your mind open and check your beliefs. That is already the makings of a hero, if you ask me. The real ones tend to go unsung, anyways.”

Hanzo leaned into the touch that slid up to his cheek, taking Zenyatta’s hand in his own and pressing a kiss to his palm.

“Indeed they do,” he whispered, gazing at the monk meaningfully, getting a smile in return. Zenyatta leaned in, noses brushing as their lips met. Then, he was in Hanzo’s lap, pressing closer, delving his tongue into his mouth, gripping him tightly. As if he would pull away, as if he ever wanted less from Zenyatta. 

Hanzo slid his hands up the monk’s back, rucking up his shirt in the process and pulling it off. They only parted for a moment before they were crashing back together again, like waves breaking against the shore. Now, there was no one waiting outside, no one needing them for hours. Nothing to get in the way or stop them. Zenyatta’s form leaned into him, gently rocking back and forth, hips rolling with the movement. Asking for more. 

Hanzo rolled them over, crawling over the monk and pressing himself against him, ravishing his mouth and neck, trailing his lips down his chest. The monk’s back arched, hands twisting in his shirt, wet gasps leaving him. Begging for more. Hanzo gave it to him. 

Slid his hands down, down, until Zenyatta was bare beneath him, skin blushed sepia down his shoulders and chest, body tensing with every breath, eyes blown. Beautiful. Then, hands were on him, taking off his clothes with barely contained desire, shaking slightly in their eagerness. Hanzo took them for just a moment, Zenyatta looking up quickly, breath heavy.

“We have all night,” he whispered, nuzzling against his cheek and then kissing him again. Slow and sensual this time, the monk moaning softly into it. His hands spread over Hanzo’s body slowly when it was revealed, feeling over each divot, Hanzo wondering if he was just imagining the awe in Zenyatta’s eyes or not. 

Then, they flicked up to meet Hanzo’s as his hands came to rest on his thighs, fingertips barely brushing where they met his hips. Where his cock was already full and dripping, even the hint of a touch making him shiver. It was not often he gave into pleasuring himself, and Zenyatta had always had more of an effect on him than he cared to admit. The monk’s hand wrapped around his length, testing a few gentle pulls, smiling a bit when Hanzo’s eyes fluttered shut with a sharp inhale. Satisfaction clear when he got a quiet, bitten off moan as he continued.

“I wish you could see how beautiful you look right now...” Zenyatta whispered breathlessly, working his hand faster. Hanzo cursed under his breath when those lithe fingers swirled over his crown, body tensing, pushing into it. Too good, too much. Not nearly enough. 

He stopped Zenyatta with a kiss, taking his hand and wrapping the other around the narrow curve of his waist, pulling him into his lap. Wanting more, his lust mirrored in everything Zenyatta did in return. The heat of his kisses, the roll of his hips, the hands touching him everywhere they could. There was a sort of desperation to the monk’s movements as he lined himself up, taking Hanzo’s cock and sinking down on it, lip bitten and brows furrowed. 

Hanzo groaned softly when he bottomed out, that wet heat surrounding him and pulsing slightly. Hugged the monk tighter to his chest, resting his forehead against his collarbone and just breathing him in for a moment. Felt Zenyatta’s arms wrap around his head, hold him closer, nuzzling into his hair. And then he slowly started to move, tilting Hanzo’s head up and kissing him with fervor. Quiet noises of pleasure stolen from the both of them, shared between each inhale and gasp, the gentle heat rising to a simmer and then an all consuming burning. 

Hanzo pushed Zenyatta back, making sure he landed gently before readjusting and thrusting into him sharp and quick. Felt Zenyatta’s ankles lock around his back, not letting him go far. The monk’s back arched as he moaned out Hanzo’s name, whimpers and pleas gasped out in between, fingernails digging into his back.

“Hanzo...A-ah, I’m close—Mmh!”

Hanzo put his weight into one forearm, reaching between them with his other hand and rubbing over Zenyatta’s clit, feeling the edge of his own orgasm. His voice stuttered out on a wail, body tensing before he shuddered, clenching around Hanzo hard enough to have him gasping wetly into the curve of Zenyatta’s shoulder as he came just as intensely. Filling Zenyatta, working them both through it until the monk whimpered and squeezed his thighs together as much as he could. 

Hanzo finally relaxed with a sigh, eyes closing as he laid over Zenyatta. Tried not to put too much of his weight over him, but it did not seem to matter. The monk hugged him tightly there anyways, breath still leaving him heavily, heart pounding in his chest. Hanzo listened to it slow, then rolled over and sat up, going into the bathroom. He came back with a wet towel, Zenyatta still sprawled on the bed, one knee bent and a blissed smile on his face. Hanzo kissed that knee as he cleaned the monk, sliding his hand over his stomach and leaning down to kiss just above his navel. 

And when he laid down, his mind was quiet, Zenyatta curling into his side as he pulled the sheets up over their legs. It was silent in the room besides their gentle breaths, Hanzo leaning his head against the monk’s.

“Hanzo...?”

“Mm?”

“I love you very much,” Zenyatta whispered, Hanzo smiling softly, tugging him closer.

“Dare I say I love you very much too.”

The monk giggled, then sighed, Hanzo closing his eyes, thumb rubbing over Zen’s hip. For once, he felt like he could relax, that tonight was for them. And he was going to enjoy it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks again for reading! I hope you enjoyed! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


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